


Skies So Blue

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Kings of Nowhere [60]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 05:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.Always.Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)





	Skies So Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Anon wanted my thoughts on [this GTA V video](https://roosterteeth.com/episode/let-s-play-2019-gta-v-5-18). :D?

There’s always a problem when it comes to the crew.

Always.

Said problems range from minor inconveniences like a diet eCola shortage in the penthouse to life-threatening injuries. (Sometimes one leads to the other because the ones with an addiction to the stuff are certifiable, but that’s another problem altogether.)

The current problem is that Geoff’s out of town for business and he took both Alfredo and Matt, arguably the last two sane members of the crew left besides Trevor himself. And while Trevor is in charge these days, you wouldn’t notice by the way they act. 

(Geoff warned him though, when he and Lindsay handed the reins over. Told him all about how they were horrible human beings and, _“God have mercy on your soul, because the bastard sure as hell had none for mine,”_ and left for what he insisted was a long overdue vacation from the crew. Lindsay had laughed as she patted him on the cheek with a _“You poor, stupid bastard,”_ before going off to rain chaos on the unsuspecting now she was free to do so.)

Geoff is out of town, the crew treats Trevor like a substitute teacher in an 80s/early 90s movie, and to make matters worse? It’s been a while since the crew’s pulled a heist or a job that requires more than the bare minimum from them.

They’re _bored_.

They’re bored and Trevor’s learned that a bored Fake AH Crew is a dangerous Fake AH Crew because they make their own entertainment. 

While some good things have come out of their shenanigans in the past – improved team morale for starters – said shenanigans also draw unwanted attention from local law enforcement that’s no good for future plans they may have.

So.

“You...want me to kidnap you.”

Trevor grins, nice and friendly and holds up the wad of cash he’s offering as payment to a fine young gentleman.

New enough to Los Santos that he hasn’t heard (too much) about the Fakes aside from a few key points. (Big crew, don’t fuck with them or you’ll be sorry, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah.) 

Hasn’t heard about their more outrageous exploits or what they like to do to blow off steam for their own enrichment. (Pack of idiots rolling a pumpkin around their enclosure and all.)

Most importantly, he’s just stupid enough, greedy enough, to be blinded to the amount of money Trevor’s offering for an afternoon of driving him around. 

“Well I mean,” Trevor says, goes a little singsong. “’Kidnap’ is such an ugly word, you know. All these connotations to it. No, no.”

Goodness no.

“I want you to steal a car for me.”

The guy – Frank? Jimmy? Trevor doesn't remember, and if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t care. 

See, Trevor asked around, got a short list of potential candidates for this little task that might need a reminder of how things work in Los Santos. A quick little tutorial for the ones new to town like this fine fellow who’s already ruffled a few feathers.

“...The car you will be in,” Lyle? Kyle? says, nice and slow, like he’s solving one of the world’s greatest mysteries. “That one.”

Trevor tips his head to the side.

“If you don’t want to earn some pocket money, I can always find someone else who will,” Trevor says.

Because Los Santos.

Chock full of people like this one. 

The guy squints at Trevor.

Big guy. Somewhat imposing, if you happen to be easily imposed. Nose that’s been broken at least once and rough around the edges (aren’t they all, though?). Scruff going on to make him seem older and admirably suspicious because it is an odd request.

“What’s the catch?”

Trevor doesn’t mean to laugh, but he does.

“Oh, you know,” he says, big, big smile. “The usual.”

========

Gerald, Trevor’s going to call him Gerald, takes the offer.

“Sure, why the fuck not?”

It’s a lot of money just to steal a car, and Trevor was reliably informed Gerald would do just about anything for the right price. 

Sold a lot of people out for less, or so Trevor’s heard. Has a habit of screwing over his partners and so on and Trevor is delighted the man’s greed has gotten the better of him yet once again. Makes having to send one of the others to pay him a little visit unnecessary later.

Birds and stones, and a delicious touch of karma because some of the people Gerald’s fucked over were theirs and that simply won’t do.

Gerald doesn’t seem to have caught on just yet, but Trevor’s sure he’ll figure it out along the way.

========

There are rules to this, of course.

The others may use any and all vehicles at their disposal, but weapons aren’t allowed.

If, for example, one of them were to get their hands on a Lazer from Zancudo, they’re not allowed to use missiles (homing or otherwise) or the cannons. (If they get their hands on tank, just. _No_.)

Gerald is likewise forbidden from using weapons. In case he were to get ideas, what with Trevor riding along in the backseat of their vehicle and all. (Trevor’s wearing his favorite clothes and would just hate to get blood on them.)

Other than that, it’s a free-for-all, which in Trevor’s experience always goes smoothly with this bunch. 

========

“Oh, my,” Trevor says, watching a Cargobob overshoot them. “That was a close one, wasn’t it.”

Gerald swears, anger and something like panic creeping into his voice and for good reason. The crew is out in force today, Cargobobs overhead and stolen police cars behind. A generous smattering of other stolen vehicles all over the place and they’ve only been at this for twenty, thirty minutes at the outside.

Very dramatic, all of it.

Pulse-pounding adventure and danger. High-speed chases and the car’s engine is making this distressing noise, smoke coming from its engine.

Trevor waves as an SUV goes screaming past, and snaps a picture with his phone – it’s bound to turn out blurry and out of focus, but he’s sure Jeremy will appreciate the thought behind it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” Gerald demands as he puts their poor car in reverse, aiming for a side street they passed. “I mean, seriously. What the fuck?”

Trevor grins and takes a picture of Gerald as he scowls at Trevor in the rearview.

For memories.

“Creative types,” he says, which isn’t stretching the truth at all. The others come up with the most...inventive heists and all sorts of shenanigans. “ _Wacky_.”

========

After the Tank incident several years back, about the time Trevor got dragged into the madness that is the Fake AH Crew, they’re forbidden from bringing a tank into the city.

APCs and the like, however, are not tanks.

“Holy shit,” Gerald whispers, the very image of a broken man. “Holy _shit_.”

Trevor _hmms_ , and checks to make sure his seat-belt is secure.

“Indeed,” he agrees, and it’s such a shame he ran out of physical room on his phone for videos because their tiny little car facing a line of Brickades is a stunning sight.

Gerald makes this noise in the back of his throat, and Trevor can see the moment he throws all caution to the wind and has his _fuck it, what the fuck_ moment as he puts his foot to the pedal and they shoot forward.

While there are several Brickades present, there aren’t enough to create an effective blockade. More to intimidate than anything else, and Gerald squeezes their car through the narrow gap left open to them with inches to spare. (At least two, possibly three.)

========

There’s a small flock of drones buzzing around them and a Terrorbyte bearing down on them at the other end of the runway. (Not great odds, but Gerald is proving to be quite resourceful or just incredibly lucky.)

“Are those goddamned _blimps?_ ”

There’s also a parachute in the air, and by the rainbow pattern it has to be Gavin.

“They’re faster than you’d think,” Trevor says, “and surprisingly maneuverable.”

He smiles, bland little thing, when Gerald gives him an incredulous look.

========

“Why the hell do you people have so many vehicles?”

Trevor glances up from his phone.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, and Gerald repeats himself with a skosh more emphasis this time.

Trevor shrugs, glancing out his window at the freight train they're keeping pace with, occasional flashes of color as the others tries to land on one of the flatcars. They look like dolphins swimming alongside ye olde sailing ships.

Beautiful and graceful even in failure.

They’re being (gently) herded back to Los Santos, although Gerald seems to think he’s still in control of their destination and not the other way around.

“Well I mean,” he says, and shrugs again. “Nice things.”

Shiny, shiny things. Like a kid in a candy store, his crew. See something flashy, shiny and have to have it. Come up with an idea for a heist to get their hands on it or some form of shenanigans or what have you.

Gerald stares at him in the rearview mirror as though he’s realized they’re all a bunch of lunatics.

========

Like all good things, this merry little chase Gerald’s been leading the others must end.

Unlike all good things, it ends with a blockade created with a handy-dandy rocket launcher, several parked cars, and a crashed ultralight as several Cargobobs hover overhead. (They really do love their Cargobobs.)

Also, Ryan hauling poor Gerald out of the driver’s seat where he’s in the process of beating the everloving shit out of him. 

Trevor can’t hear whatever Ryan’s telling Gerald as he teaches him a lesson using violence – he’d be a terrible teacher – but he can guess.

Winces as Ryan drags Gerald in for one last doozy of a punch before dropping his unconscious body to the ground, shoulders heaving a little from exertion. Sees Ryan take a moment to compose himself before he makes his way back to the battered car that’s somehow survived the day’s activities.

He unlocks the door and smiles up at Ryan when he wrenches it open like a brute.

“Hello, Ryan,” he says, bright and cheerful. Flattens a hand against his chest and bats his eyes up at the strong, burly man who rescued him from the clutches of the vile kidnapper. Says, with a terrible Southern accent, “My hero.”

Ryan stares at him for a long, long moment, and then he sighs.

All dramatic about it too, the way Geoff gets sometimes as though life is an endless bout of pain and suffering and woe is him, woe is him.

“I hate you,” Ryan says, matter-of-fact, just a simple little declaration.

Trevor smiles. 

“I’m sure you do,” he says. Tips his head to the side. “But the real question is, are you still bored?”

There’s a (literal) trail of crashed and ruined vehicles behind them marking the meandering path Gerald took and who knows how much in property damage. 

Chaos, panic, and so on. (Par for the course for them.)

Ryan opens his mouth, and pauses.

Unconsciously mirrors Trevor by tipping his head the opposite direction as he considers Trevor’s question. Makes this annoyed sound when he finds his answer.

“...No,” he admits.

Trevor beams at him. 

“Well there you go, then!” he says.

The crew had an exciting day and Gerald got his comeuppance for fucking over one of theirs. (Most likely he hasn’t connected the dots, but if he hasn’t there’s always next time.)

“You’re a lunatic,” Ryan says, as though a sane man would be in Trevor’s position with the crew. 

Trevor laughs, because yes, but also - 

“Thank you, Mr. Vagabond. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Ryan snorts and steps back to let Trevor out of the poor battered car that’s somehow survived everything they threw at it today.

Trevor looks around at the destruction, random people gawking far too close for their own safety. Looks up, and smiles at the Cargobobs circling the area. 

The lone Frogger, because Lindsay.

Back down at Ryan who’s got his hand pressed to his earpiece as he talks to the others to let them know Trevor’s “mugger” has been neutralized and Trevor himself is unharmed and so on and so forth.

He feels something a lot like fondness as Ryan keeps shooting him these little looks, giving that up t some point to stand beside him. Shoulder touching Trevor’s because then at least, he’ll have some warning if Trevor slips away to start a bonus round to their little game.

Overhead one of the Cargobobs separates from the pack and looks for a good place to land to ferry them back to the penthouse, and the faint sound of sirens sound in the distance.

Good old LSPD and various emergency services leaping into action now that the Fake AH Crew has finished another one of their games and it’s safe for people to come out to deal with the mess left behind. It’s an odd agreement, understanding, they have, because this kind of game isn’t about body counts the LSPD’s learned it’s better in the long run if the crew get to have their fun.

Trevor laughs at the absurdity of it all because they’re all a little mad here, aren’t they? Keeps things interesting.

“Madman,” Ryan says with a little shake of his head and something like amusement in his voice. “Let’s go home.”

Well, the penthouse, really. 

Celebratory drinks, and takeout set to embellished recounting of the day’s adventures. Plans for future rounds with a few tweaks thrown in, and this overall sense of accomplishment on Trevor’s part because the damn pumpkin _worked_.


End file.
